Illarion.org

[I've looked around, and not been able to locate any sort of official in-game message board, either here, or in the forums. I hope there's precedence for this sort of posting, but if not, I'll gladly find an alternate way to have my character post his message As it's not possible to have this posted on the actual smithy, feel free to post your character's actions following the posting and ensuing events, as though this were an open RP story.]




A colossal figure, garbed in a tattered, midnight-black cloak steps slowly, and deliberately towards the front of the smithy. Each footfall echoes with a dull, resounding 'crunch', piercing the still morning air. The worn hood of the faded cloak casts the figure's face into eerie, unrecognizable shadows, yet the distinct glint of sharp, white teeth flashes for the briefest of moments as the figure drives a nail deep into the wooden wall of the building. Pinned to the wood by the large carpenter's nail is a small scroll of torn parchment. On the scrap of parchment, in flowing, spiky script is the following words:




Dear, sweet, innocent Bane.

With walls washed white, and hearts stained black,

Illusions of safety, and false security.

The time has come to check the course,

To correct the path,

To break free of all pretense,

To expose your rotten core.

Now is the time for fear.

Now is the time for chaos.

Now is the time for unsettling.

The puppet Master of your false show, am I.

Born of darkness, scourge of light.

The first of five shall fall tonight.

Dear, sweet, innocent Bane,

Are you ready to play my game?

In the dead of night as the town lay sleeping, a single bolt of lightning appears then emits a blue light as Kyre floats from the portal. With ebony hair reflecting the light of the moons as a halo surrounding a pale face rarely seen by the sun, her dark eyes appear to be searching as she moves from shop to shop only stopping to lay a fish near Eliza.

Nargun's raven doesn't just flutter by without a good reason.

Not satisfied with the quiet of the town, Kyre continues her rounds barely looking inside the smithy, immediately turning toward the door then stops finally gazing at the wooden wall as she begins to grin. Pointing at the parchment with a long red nail from her ungloved hand, the same color letters appear below the original writing.

Puppet Master,
I'll play, contact the witch in the skeletal forest.
Kyre

Weapons jingle on the armored lizard's belt as he walks by the smithy on his patrol. The red of the witch's reply catches his eye and he approaches to read. The lizard brings the claw that cuts through the end of his steel gloved finger to his jaw and rubs along it, pondering the meaning. He shifts his gaze to the red writing again and hums in a perhaps discontented manner.

Taking a writing board from his bag, he starts copying the poem with his inked claw. After putting the writing board back in his bag he lingers there gazing upon the writing with a few whips of his tail, a sign of deep, troubled thought. Weapons jingle once again as he turns abruptly to continue his patrol.

Leva Beliu is looking around the smithy to find her friend Joram when her eyes fall on the scroll pinned to the wall. As she reads the verses, her face alternates between incredulity and disdain: « What the zound is that? Another wannabe conqueror that cannot even have his meters right.» On a whim, she scribbles some verses on the back of a recipe parchment. She then proceed to pin the parchment under the scroll. «Anyway, it was a shitty recipe!»

*******************
Dear sweet innocent foe
Bane has withstood many a woe
And if you want to dance with your life
Come and try a Bane’s wife
We will strive to keep your manhood intact
Although we might have it thumbtacked
On the door of the smithy
As you were so utterly silly
To think that you had a chance for fame
In inviting us to play your looser game

A Bane’s wife that has seen her lot of bad guys and is still living to tell the story